


The point between fear and will

by Blackarrow_bagels1



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not a Relationship, Suicide Attempt, based on the comics not the movies, based on the few comics i've read and wikipedia, batman 50, i don't like tom king, i'm making up some character backstory because WIKIPEDIA WON'T TELL ME WHAT I NEED, kyle rayner is mentioned, superman in mentioned, they're standing in the watch tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackarrow_bagels1/pseuds/Blackarrow_bagels1
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE AND DEATH ARE DISCUSSED VERY VISCERALLY. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE TO READ THAT KIND OF THING, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.It's very recently after Tom King's Batman #50. Basically, after being jilted at the alter because of dumb plot contrivances, Bruce throws himself off a roof (I am not kidding) after Selina leaves him a note saying that he can only be batman when he's depressed. After some time to recover (because I can't imagine him being Batman after that bULLSHIT REASONING), Batman hears some consoling words- from the person least likely to offer them.





	The point between fear and will

**Author's Note:**

> I DON'T LIKE TOM KING. BATMAN DOESN'T HIT HIS KIDS. HE'S NOT A VIGILANTEE BECAUSE HE'S DEPRESSED. I know I'm late to this party but I hope there's some punch left. For anyone who doesn't read the comics, let me tell you: you're doing amazing sweetie and it's a shitshow in the printed world right now. Just stick to the animated stuff and the movies because the source material is WACK.
> 
> I've been envisioning this fic at work while cleaning registers and am actually writing it in a fit of late night passion so i am very sorry if it reads like a fever dream or is unreadable.

Bruce never expected the day after his wedding to start with so many phone calls. Sure, he was the CEO of a multi-million dollar company, and yes, as a civilian and superhero he had many friends, but waking up to over 4000 messages and 300+ voicemails was not normal.

But his wedding hadn't been normal, either. In fact, it hadn't been. 

Bruce woke up and groaned, remembering the rough paper of Selina's note between his fingers. He had memorized the contents, dumbfounded by it. He had memorized the instant, shocked and unprepared. The moments after reading that damned note were not as clear. The night was hazy, the air was thick, but his mind was made up. Determined, in a hesitant manner, to stop thinking.

Bruce went back to sleep.

The next day wasn't much better. Bruce wandered, lost in his own house, secluded and isolated in his depression, until his legs couldn't walk anymore. Near enough to the bedroom, he fell asleep in a doorway.

Waking up with a start, Bruce somehow got up. His body ached. He hadn't patrolled in three days and his muscles yearned for exercise. Noticing the beautiful skyline from a window, he surmised that the sun was setting. Perfect timing. Turning from the window and starting for the doorway he remembered Selina. And he remembered her note.

And he decided against patrolling that night.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I know we're not supposed to see you," Hal Jordan started, his words inching cautiously towards the only other figure in the room, "but I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

The two men were in a secluded hallway, one of many, in the Watchtower. In other rooms, other superheroes laughed and talked, their voices mixed and distant danced across the air. It barely reached Hal's ears. He stood by a window- part of the wall, a brief break from the metallic grey of the wall's lining. Earth was perfectly situated in the the window's frame. She spun slowly, proudly presenting South America to any onlookers. There was also a lonely couch, a relic of from when the Justice League's base didn't have beds and was stocked with enough couches for every member to claim.

Hal sighed. This wasn't the first time he had been ignored by Bats. He wouldn't stop, though. So he used a more direct approach.

"You've never died before, have you?"

That got Bats' attention. The figure turned, and while Hal couldn't discern what Bruce's expression was, he could feel the annoyance radiating off him. 

Hal continued, "There was that time with Darkseid, but you didn't die-die. You were just gone, back in time, continuing to be Batman. One of your kids even, the smart one, suspected you hadn't died."

"What's your point, Jordan?" Bruce spat, emphasis on "Jordan." Batman turned back to the window, and resumed brooding. 

"My point is that you haven't died." Hal replied, knowing he was pushing Bruce's buttons. That was only part of his point, though. "My point is that Batman hasn't died, and yet Bruce Wayne threw himself off a roof and if it weren't for Superman catching you-"

That did it. Batman grabbed Hal's uniform collar in his fists and growled. It would've made an ordinary criminal back off, the intense stare from Bruce's cowl, the close proximity, the fact that they were alone and no one would ever know what happened. For a moment Hal stopped, his fight or flight sense tingling the back of spine and his leg twitched in reaction. His sense of self preservation wanted him to leave so badly, to run to the other League members and never talk to Batman again.

But Hal was a Green Lantern of Earth for a reason. So he kept talking. "Look. You and I are the only two people who can weild a green and a yellow ring without being ripped in half or something. That means, emotionally, we have to have something similar in common. But I've died before. And let me tell you- it's not fun. You don't want to be dead. Even when your whole body aches, and your mind can't stop thinking about ending it, and you feel that your life is meaningless- death isn't worth it." That had no effect on Batman. "You think you're the only one who'se felt low? Who'se felt that the world hated him? You think you're the only man to try committing suicide?"

That did it. Bruce's hands loosened and Hal took a few steps backwards. He knew he had just revealed too much. He didn't mean to be that honest, but it had just spilled out.

"When." Batman's response was simple. It was direct, not even a question. He wanted an answer, and he would get it.

"I shouldn't have-" Hal tried in vain to backpedal, to take back what he had blurted out, but it was no use. Batman took a step toward him, and Hal's green aura brightened defensively and subconsciously. 

"When?" Bruce tried again, imploring this time. His tone wasn't demanding anymore, it was inquisitive. His posture softened, too. Bruce ignored the extra bright light that was shining in his eyes- he needed to know when Hal had tried.

Hal stumbled backwards, eventually making his way to the couch, and slouching into it. His aura softened, but he fidgeted with his hands. "When I was ten, I watched my father get into the cockpit of a plane, and then explode. He had just given me his pilot's jacket, and then left. I watched from the ground, and tried to fan the flames with the jacket itself. I was the only person trying to save him. I had never felt so alone."

Hal paused, remembering the heat, oh god the heat, the blisters on his hands, the burns on his fingers, the stench of oil and flesh burning. His throat was raw from screaming, from breathing in god knows what chemicals were in the air. He ran into the wreckage but was stopped by a fire marshal. Someone had finally come to the scene, but it was too late. Batman sat next to him, still watching.

"When Coast City was destroyed, I felt that same loneliness. I had no purpose, no reason to keep going. Everything I ever loved and worked for had just... disappeared. I made a gun with my own ring and tried to shoot myself, but then Parallax possessed me. He stopped me before I pulled the trigger, saying that he needed me and that we could rebuild the city. So I gave in, and you know what happened next."

Bruce nodded, remembering. Jordan had gone crazy, possessed by the living embodiment of fear itself, and nearly killed the Green Lantern Corps and the Justice League in a fit of rage and madness.

"Kyle helped me through it. He brought me back to the good side and Parallax left me. After that, I was worse. So much worse. Coast City was still gone. Barry had just died, and I felt more useless and unwanted than ever. The Leauge didn't want me back, the Corps wouldn't have me, and even Parallax didn't need me as a host anymore. So I did what I thought was right. I tried to kill myself again. I overdosed on any drugs I could get my hands on, praying that it would be enough to finally end my life."

Hal sighed again, finally looking to his companion. He hadn't noticed that Bruce had removed his cowl. Staring into Bruce's sky-blue eyes, he saw his own meager reflection. He looked tired.

This time Bruce spoke up, his voice devoid of emotion but his words betrayed his curiosity. "What stopped you?"

A small smile pulled at Hal's mouth. "Oliver. He found me right after I had swallowed enough pills to stop my liver. He saved my life by taking me to the hospital and staying the whole night. When I got out of surgery, he was still waiting. He didn't care that I was a failure. He didn't care that I had tried to kill him. All he cared about was me."

A comfortable silence enveloped the two men. The air was warm and the couch was soft. The Earth still displayed South America through the window, the walls still rumbled with distant commotion.

Hal broke the silence first. "I'm glad Superman caught you," he said, standing up. He walked down the the hallway, far from Bruce, who was still. Turning over his shoulder, he smiled. "You should be, too,"


End file.
